


Altered States

by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte), ArianaDeralte



Category: Star Wars and Misc. Movies crossover
Genre: Crossover, Drama, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianaDeralte/pseuds/Ariana%20Deralte, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianaDeralte/pseuds/ArianaDeralte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 20 year old Obi-wan is sent to Earth to help facilitate first contact. Unfortunately an old enemy shows up... Star Wars/Shallow Grave/Highlander. Co-written with Havenward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Socially Disturbed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Normal legal stuff for Lucasfilm, Rysher, and whoever it was that made Shallow Grave. Xanatos and Obi-wan's padawan stone belongs to the Jedi Apprentice series.

            Inside their rooms at the temple, Obi-wan was packing for a long trip.

             "Are you sure about this, Master?" Obi-Wan asked as he packed. "It's going to be a whole year." He could feel Qui-Gon smiling behind him. Was his nervousness that obvious?

             "It may not be that long, Obi-Wan," Qui-gon said reassuringly. "You know that the Agualls don't allow people under the age of thirty on their world. You've proven many times that you can take care of yourself. I'm sure this time will be no different."

Obi-wan knew what he said was true. The Aguallarians were so adverse to "young ones", as they called them, that they shipped their own children off the planet until they came of age. Obi-wan, at twenty, had at least ten more years before he would even be allowed near their planet.

             "But why do I need to help facilitate first contact with this illogical planet? Master, who names their planet Earth? It'd be like... like naming it dirt."

            "I'm sure the Senate knew what it was doing when it scheduled this world for first contact," Qui-Gon scolded, still amused. "And you're not to make this contact. You're to gather information until a qualified ambassador arrives. The Senate operative there is a Mr. Lucas. You should contact him." He paused, trying to think of something to lighten his Padawan's mood. "At least they're human."

Obi-wan grinned. Their last mission, to a planet whose name he still couldn't pronounce, had been a trial for Qui-gon.

Every female of the species had been insanely attracted to him and the fact that they were only a foot tall and covered in feathers didn't seem to dismay them a bit. Qui-gon had taken it stoically but apparently, their clinging to his legs and singing had annoyed his master more than he thought.

            "Yes, at least they're human, Master." Obi-Wan finished with his bag and threw it over his shoulder. His eyes met Qui-gon's for a long moment before he bowed.

            "May the Force be with you, Master."

            "And with you, my Padawan." There was more that Qui-Gon could have said, that he wanted to say. Saying more than this, though, might have kept the boy for longer than he had time -Wan watched his master expectantly, not sure what he was waiting for.

            Qui-Gon pointed to the chrono. "You'll be late."

Obi-Wan nodded. He felt... disappointed, almost hurt. It was as if he was saying good-bye... He shook the emotion off as he left the room. He and Qui-Gon had been apart before, and he'd never let his Master down. This time would be no different.

            Qui-Gon still stood, staring distantly at the door. There had been so much he wanted to say, and Obi-Wan knew it. That he hadn't had time, left him feeling sad. With a sigh, he turned to take one last look about the room. His transport would be leaving soon as well

            Glancing at the bed, he noticed a familiar object lying on the covers. With a deep sense of foreboding, he realized that it was the stone he'd given Obi-Wan on his thirteenth birthday. It must have slid out of his robe, Qui-Gon thought. Walking over, he picked it up. Its warmth pulsed in his hand. He couldn't remember a time when Obi-Wan had been without it.

*****

            Obi-Wan sighed as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He'd pinned his braid back so that it fell underneath his undone ponytail. It felt odd, especially since he'd never seen himself dressed as anything but Qui-Gon's apprentice before. The trousers, or "jeans" as they were called on Earth, were too tight. His shirt boldly proclaimed "Socially Disturbed". He wondered just what the fads were on Earth to require such a saying. The sleeves of his jacket came only to his wrists, a far cry from his voluminous Jedi robes.

And the worst part of the new wardrobe was the footwear. These "sneakers" were everything he did not want. They were too short, and they were white, a pristine and perfect white that practically begged for someone to get them dirty. And to make matters worse, it had taken him ten minutes to lace and tie them. His dislike of Earth was growing by the minute.

            "Jedi," the captain's voice came through the com, "we will be landing momentarily. I'll try to put you down in a place where the natives won't see us. You'll have trouble enough as it is on this planet."

            "You've been here before?" Obi-wan asked in surprise. "I thought the Senate forbade any contact with this world?"

            "Some, uh, free trade friends of mine have been here before. Let's just say they don't take well to strangers."

Obi-wan stifled a sigh. Another bad point of this mission...

            "I'll be right there, Captain," he said. After checking to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, he headed for the door.

            The captain, a short, grey, creature with long fingers, a big head, and large black eyes, was waiting for him by the hatch.

            "Good luck, Jedi" he said, his small mouth barely moving. "I've set us down in the middle of one of their cities." He then pronounced a blessing in his own tongue that roughly translated as "May the slugs of your garden dance in concentric circles and may the Great Pooka visit your dreams."

            "Thank you, Captain," Obi-wan responded with a bow. Qui-Gon's words came back to him. _At least they're human_. Obi-Wan exited into what looked like an alleyway. A thought occurred to him.

            "Captain?" He turned around but the ship was gone in a slight whoosh of air. Obi-Wan had to admire the captain's piloting skill at dropping him in the middle of a crowded city without being seen. But how was he supposed to find this Mr. Lucas if he didn't even know what part of the planet he was on? He took a deep calming breath, flushing out his irritation. After all, it was his fault for not asking about Mr. Lucas earlier.

            He walked swiftly down the street, using the Force to relax himself and blend in with his surroundings.

            As he rounded the corner, he could see a very odd scene at the end of the next block. Two men in plaid skirts, black boots, black t-shirts--one proclaiming, "A mind is a wonderful thing to waste"- and green hair that had been made into spikes were holding a portly man in a bright pink shirt labelled "Scotland" and tan shorts. The third punk was dressed like the first two but he wore a plaid sash and his purple hair formed a foot tall mohawk.

            "Wot 'id you say we we'e warin'?!" the third punk, apparently the leader, screamed in the chubby man's face. The poor man, his face as red as the augustine leaves of the Chala tree, was obviously unused to such treatment.

            "I... I... I..." the man stuttered, trembling. "I said you were wearing a kilt!" The leader kicked the man before punching him.

            "No, you di'n't! You sed we war warin' skuts!" He pulled his arm back to strike again.

            "No… I meant to say kilts!" the pudgy man squealed, shaking his head furiously. "I swear! I swear! Please let me go!" The three skirted, or rather, kilted men regarded him for a moment.

            "Very well," said the leader. "Tak 'is money." His green haired companions greedily obliged, kicking the portly man once more for good measure.

            Obi-Wan would have done something, but there was nothing to be done. As his Master had pointed out, he was there to observe. Getting into a fight, sure as it was that he would win, would not accomplish his mission. Besides, by the time he could reach them, the three men had already gone. As soon as they had run off, he rushed to the poor man's side.

            "Can I help you, sir?" he asked politely. "If you need a hand..."

            "No," the man said shortly, with an angry glare. "I don't need any help! Get away from me before I call the police."

Obi-Wan backed away confused. He sensed the man was embarrassed but that was no reason to turn down help. He stood watching the man limp away. It was going to be a very long year.

            Gusts of wind began buffeting him and soon he felt cold, stinging raindrops hit his neck. The jacket he had been provided with had no hood. He decided to find shelter from the downpour that would begin soon. Obi-Wan walked down the street, looking at one building after another, trying to identify one as lodgings. As he drew near the end of the street, a voice spoke from the shadows below an awning.

            "Looking for shelter, Obi-Wan? Does a little rain bother the perfect little Jedi?"

Obi-Wan paused, wondering who would know his name here, then took a step toward the awning. The voice sounded familiar...

He reached out with the Force, just as the figure stepped out of the shadows.

            "Missing something?"

            "Xanatos," Obi-Wan breathed. Then all went black.


	2. Severed Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Author's Note: We find out what happens to Obi-wan and introduce a few new friends…It's still a good idea to see Shallow Grave. Brownie points to those who identify the brief cameo crossover.

 Author's Note: We find out what happens to Obi-wan and introduce a few new friends…It's still a good idea to see Shallow Grave. Brownie points to those who identify the brief cameo crossover.

109…110…111…

"God," Alex muttered, "Why did I have to buy the bloody flat on the bloody top floor?" He shot a glance back down the empty stairwell. At least this one doesn't have a loft…

117…118…119…120. Pushing his errant hair from his face, Alex walked up to the lone door. Home sweet home. His home. The 'Alex Law' on the plaque below the buzzer made that clear. He stared at the plaque. In the empty spaces below his, two more names appeared. Juliet Miller. David Stephens. He blinked and once again three empty spaces were below his name.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of the sudden memories and unlocked the door. He tossed his coat with its attached press ID onto a nearby coat rack. After punching the security code into the flat alarm, he turned on the TV and collapsed on the couch. However, the expected sound of his favorite game show did not fill the room, instead he was treated to a running commentary on a football game. Alex liked football with the best of them but not when it took over his favorite show. He turned the TV off in disgust, after venting a few choice words, then headed to the kitchen for a beer.

Sitting at the kitchen table, he downed a few then grabbed another and headed for the bedroom. He racked his brain for something to do since he was boycotting the TV and anything resembling a social life for that matter. Wasn't there a book somewhere that he started reading? It must be in the bedroom…

Muttering to himself about lost books, Alex began searching his bedroom, turning controlled chaos into a disordered mess. The book refused to reveal itself; though Alex's drunken searching was not exactly thorough. He searched the drawers and the closet, leaving the dusty bookshelf in the corner untouched. Then he started under the bed. After running his hand around a few times, he was rewarded with the sharp snap of a mousetrap on his fingers. A string of expletives ensued, followed by the mousetrap hitting the opposite wall.

Alex considered giving up but decided to give the bed one last try. He didn't remember putting more than one mousetrap under there…He ran his hand under the bed with a little more caution. His fingers brushed something. Stretching as far as he could rewarded his searching hand with a small box.

He recognized it immediately and told himself not to open it. But at the drunken state he was in, his body had a tendency to disobey. Inside the box was a small plastic bag containing a piece of braided hair. A long, light brown braid with red and yellow ties to be exact. With trembling fingers, Alex pulled it out of the bag. He didn't have a mirror in his room but he knew without looking that the braid would match his hair.

Almost a year ago, he had been found on the street with a severe case of amnesia. The clothing he had been wearing was obviously not his own. Making the braid clutched in his hand the only evidence of his old life to be found. He'd been told by the doctors to look at it regularly, to somehow make him remember but eventually he had stopped. The bloody thing depressed him for some reason.

On a whim, Alex threw it. He didn't see where it landed and he didn't care. Forgetting the book, he got up and grabbed his beer. He tried to remember the last time he had been out, had a date or caught a film. The lack of responses to his query drove home just how miserable a life he was living. It was up to him to change it.

He would find some flatmates.

Sitting down at the writing desk he pulled out some paper and began writing. 'Single Scottish guy, searching for flatmates, male or female.' He read it to himself. No, that sounds wrong.

Crumpling up the paper and tossing it behind him, he began again. "Flat owner, seeking three people who will put up with his personal habits…' No, too truthful.

Crumpling and tossing that one as well, he tried again. And again. And again. But each try ended with a bit of crumpled parchment being thrown over his shoulder.

Finally giving up in disgust, he turned to take care of the garbage behind him. He could always try again in the morning. Alex stood and stopped short. Instead of littering the floor, each individual piece of crumpled paper was neatly nestled within the wastebasket.

Moonlight from two lunar bodies streamed through the hole in the wall that served as a window. On his sleeping pallet, Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn turned restlessly in his sleep. He rolled over so that the moonlight illuminated his face and opened his eyes. With a sigh, he pulled his blanket around his shoulders and padded softly to the window. He'd been dreaming again. It was the same dream. Recurring infrequently but each time more urgent. The last time had been over three months ago during his negotiations with the Charga, one of the sects of the Aguallarians. At the time, he had been sure it related to some trouble in the negotiations but that was definitely over now.

Qui-gon centered himself, drawing on the Force in the hopes of remembering more of the dream than a distant warning. An image of a hand holding a braid flashed into his mind. Obi-wan…

The midmorning sun shone brightly on the road to Edinburgh, or rather, one of the roads.

"On the merry, merry road to Edinburgh…No, that doesn't work," said one of the two young women leaning against a car on the side of the road.

"Mm-hmm," the other agreed, turning a page of her newspaper. "Doesn't help that we're not going anywhere." A small silence lapsed between them.

"Hey Sarah?" the first asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Have you found a flat yet?"

"Lia, if you ask me that again…"

"Then let me look." Sarah handed Liath the paper and relaxed against the car.

"Look, I found one."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sarah breathed out, annoyed and relieved that her friend had found an ad so quickly. "So read it to me."

"Fully furnished flat with a full kitchen. Three rooms available. Contact owner at (01) 8323937 for interview."

"I guess so," Sarah responded with a shrug. "The worst that could happen is that we don't get the room."

"Sounds good. I'll drive and you can make the phone call." Liath handed the paper to her friend and got in the car. With a sigh, Sarah stood and pulled out her cell phone. Dialing swiftly, she threw the paper on the back seat and

got in the car. She listened to the phone ring on the other side. Finally, someone picked up, and after a moment a groggy voice muttered, "She's not here," and promptly hung up. Sarah checked her watch, 11:23. Why would anyone be asleep at 11:23?

"I think I must have dialed the wrong number," Sarah said.

"So? Dial again." Liath glanced quickly at her, then back at the road. Sarah reached into the back of the car for the discarded paper.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Sarah dialed again, this time checking each number as she pressed the button. She hit send.

"Ring…ring…ring…"she chanted in time with the phone.

"Shut up!"

Sarah grinned. "Ring…"

"Someone had better pick up soon or else they'll find no one on the line," Liath muttered, while maneuvering through a roundabout. Sarah's grin only got wider. She was rather surprised when someone actually picked up.

"What do you want?" came a rather slurred greeting. It was the same voice from before.

"Uh, is this (01) 8323937? Did you place an ad in the paper for flatmates?"

"Oh right…" There was a long pause. Sarah entertained herself by humming the Star Wars theme softly. This guy obviously wasn't an early riser. Finally, he produced an answer.

"Yeah. I have three rooms…Did you want an interview?"

"Yes, were just inside Edinburgh now. If you could give us directions, we could be there by 12-12:30." Sarah thought she heard a groan but he responded relatively quickly by asking her where they were and giving her the directions.

Two hours, thirteen city blocks and two narrowly avoided accidents later, they were still driving. Liath sighed and glanced at Sarah.

"Are you sure he gave us the right directions?"

"No. But he gave me his address and I have a map."

"A map of Edinburgh, I hope?" Sarah just gave her a look. Satisfied that Sarah was in as bad a mood as she was in; Liath turned her attention back to driving. She was just in time to slam on the brakes at a red light. She was also in time for two young men in some of the worst clothes she had ever seen, hurdle over the hood of the car. The first rolled to the pavement but got up and kept right on running. The second, with a rather wild gleam in his eye, turned to look at them and laughed, before running off in the same direction. It came as no surprise when two policemen passed in front of the car a few seconds later. Liath spoke first.

"Are you sure you want to live in this city?"

"Liath," said Sarah in exasperation. "It's no worse than London and we lived there for three months! Besides, if I'm reading this map right, Mr. Alex Law's flat is in a totally different part of the city." Liath sighed. She just wanted to stop driving. The sound of a horn penetrated her consciousness. She realized she was still sitting at the now green light. She pulled into traffic and turned in the direction she hoped the flat was in. Maybe they would get there in time for tea…

The stairs twisted endlessly under Liath's gaze, giving her the dizzying impression that they were miles up. She pushed away from the banister and turned to look at Sarah.

"That's a lot of stairs with no lift in sight." Sarah shrugged. They had been on the landing for the past five minutes. Their interviews tended to go badly, mostly because the interviewers had trouble appreciating the uniqueness of the interviewees. As a result they had been living in youth hostels for the past month, an experience neither of them wanted to repeat. Realizing she would receive no answer, Liath walked to the door and pressed the buzzer. Sarah spoke up.

"Maybe this time we should be on our best behavior." Liath frowned and mouthed 'spoilsport'. Sarah figured that was as close to a promise of good behavior as she'd get. They waited. Liath pressed the buzzer again and they waited. On her their third attempt the door opened to reveal a rather groggy young man with light, unkempt, brown hair and blue eyes that focused rather blearily upon them. He stared for awhile and they stood rather uncomfortably, waiting for him to acknowledge them. His first words were typical.

"Who are you?"


	3. By Any Means Necessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: An interview, a challenge and two new flatmates. Special thanks to Xanupa Quosigrachist for spelling her last name (and helping with the fic). Rated PG (with apologies for the pub scene).

Author's Note: An interview, a challenge and two new flatmates. Special thanks to Xanupa Quosigrachist for spelling her last name (and helping with the fic). Rated PG (with apologies for the pub scene).

Disclaimer: We don't own them, nor do we get dirty green stuff for them. They belong to Master Lucas.

Sarah sighed inwardly as Alex let them into the flat. He was polite enough once he understood that they had called earlier. Gradually he regained consciousness as he showed them blearily around the flat.

It was pretty decent. Each bedroom was spacious and appropriately furnished, if bare. The walls were a uniform white but when Lia hinted that paint might be in order, Alex got a rather scared look in his eyes and pronounced a rather vehement no...Sarah shrugged. At least they could put posters up.

The kitchen was nice, even if the fridge had exactly 12 bottles of beer and one half eaten pastrami sandwich. Liath counted them under her breath so Sarah could hear.

The tour finished up in the living room. Alex motioned for them to sit down on the couch, while he grabbed a chair for himself out of the kitchen. He sat down in it with the back facing them and waited. Liath and Sarah exchanged glances. He just sat there. Finally Sarah decided to speak up.

"Uhm. Alex?" He spoke at the same time.

"Why do you want my flat?" Sarah bit back the sarcastic retort that automatically came to mind and settled for the more mild.

"We need a place to stay while in Edinburgh." She felt Lia suppress a laugh at the pure banality of the statement.

"What do you do?"

"Do?" said Lia. She sounded puzzled. Sarah shot her an annoyed glare. Any normal person would have known what that question meant. They were supposed to be acting normal!

"He means what are our jobs dear?"

"Oh. Right. I'm a writer and Sarah here is a photographer. What's your job?" Her tones were not subdued. Alex stared at Lia, slightly taken aback. It wasn't often his interviewees asked such pointed questions.

"I'm a reporter. What do you write about?" Lia got a malicious grin on her face.

"Living death." Sarah kicked her but it was too late. She sat back and sighed in resignation. They would never get the flat once Lia got going.

"Living death?" Liath let the pause continue, then decided to take pity on him.

"Amnesia. M latest book is about a woman with amnesia and how it effects her life." Alex looked skeptical.

"If you have books published, how come you can't afford your own flat?" Lia rolled her eyes.

"Are you kidding? When has there ever been a writer who made enough in their own life to make ends meet?"

"Michael Critchton or Anne Rice to name a few. How then do you intend to pay for the flat?" Lia frowned, recognizing the trap finally but Sarah saved her.

"Old money. My parents give me a monthly allowance and despite what Lia says, she does make some money off her books."

            "All right." Alex marked something down on the notepad he had picked up. He flipped a page then read a question off the paper.

            "Hmm...okay, If you had a bear market would you want to buy on margin or sell short?"

            They both knew he was talking about the stock market but neither knew the answer. Perhaps one of them should have paid attention in Business &amp; Financing class. Lia decided to bluster it out.

            "We don't know and why do you care?" Alex flinched from the answer. Apparently none of his interviewees ever fought back. He grinned for a second but it disappeared as Liath continued.

            "Do you know the proper way to prepare fricasseed termites? Or how to spell the longest word in the world? Do you even know the longest word in the world? Do you know Luke Skywalker's call sign when he impersonates a stormtrooper?!" Lia's voice had gotten steadily louder until she was almost shouting at him. Sarah watched the whole scene in amusement. They had most definitely lost the flat but Liath on a tirade was a sight not to be missed.

            Abruptly, Liath stopped and relaxed back into her couch. She looked around calmly.

            "Does this place have central heating?" she said. Her voice was calm and controlled. There was no sign that she had been overreacting just a moment before. Alex stared at her for a moment, then answered the question.

            "This flat has everything."

            "Even a rotting corpse under the floorboards?" muttered Sarah to Liath.

            "What?!" Apparently she hadn't spoken as low as she thought. Alex was watching her sharply with a hint of fear on his face. It was Liath who decided to ignore this and answer. She smiled maliciously at him.

            "She asked if you had a corpse under the floorboards. No self-respecting flat in Edinburgh should be without one. Of course, body parts in the freezer qualify too, though you have to be careful not to mix them with the beef." They watched as the stress drained out of Alex's body. He laughed and grinned boyishly at them.

            "Let me guess. You two are serial killers?" Liath grinned back.

            "Of course. We've been leaving a trail of bodies across the country in every hostel we have had the joy of visiting." Liath looked slyly at him. "Though you don't need to worry. We don't kill flatmates until were ready to move on."

            Alex watched the two women in front of him with interest. He liked their sense of humor even if it did touch a little too close to homes at times. They would certainly make interesting flatmates.

            He hadn't been sure he would like them when he first opened the door. The two had been...not uptight, but not relaxed either. The darker one, Liath, had given up on formality at some point and then both had assumed they wouldn't be getting the rooms. Once they started acting normally, for them at least, he'd found them to be a rather interesting pair. Of course, what he found interesting, others found...well, he could understand why others would turn them down as flatmates.

            Alex was sure he could get along with them. However, someone as easily amused as himself would not just accept the two without some sort of test...He felt a grin slowly spread across his face and caught Liath's eye. Sitting next to her, Sarah got a worried look on her face. Liath was grinning back at him. He spoke.

            "Just how willing are you two to get this flat?"

            The pub was just down the street - something Sarah was sure Alex had assured before buying the flat. She watched Alex and Lia walk before her, joking and boasting about who would drink the other under the table. Sarah wasn't so sure about the whole thing but she had seen Lia hold her drink before and if it got them the flat...It was acceptable. Well, as long was one of them didn't die of alcohol poisoning before the night was over.

            They reached the pub, whose sign proclaimed it The Last Drop with a picture of a man being hung on it. Inside, Alex was greeted like a regular. He declined a seat at the bar and took a table on the floor instead. The woman sat down as Alex obtained a beer for Sarah and a bottle of Vodka with two glasses for the contest. Sarah flipped a coaster over and took out a pen. Liath and Alex were both watching her when she looked up.

            "I'd like a record of the night since you two won't remember." They both shrugged.

            "Let the game begin," proclaimed Alex. Sarah poured them each a shot then made a tick mark on her coaster.

            A bottle and two shots later they were still at it. Sarah didn't even want to think about the number of marks on her coaster and wondered if the two even knew what they were doing anymore. Both were at that stage of drunkenness where nothing really mattered anymore. In fact they were both staring at each other and grinning stupidly. Neither of them showed any sign of going under but Sarah wasn't sure how much longer she could keep them interested in the challenge.

            "Lia...Liath! It's your turn." There was no response. Finally Sarah clapped her hands in front of Lia's eyes. With much blinking, Lia broke eye contact and turned her head towards Sarah.

            "Did you hear the microwave go off?" Sarah slowly shook her head, keeping an eye on Alex in the hopes he'd collapse.

            "No. I didn't. But it's your turn to take a drink," she said slowly, willing Liath to understand. Why had they ever agreed to this contest anyway? No flat was worth this.

            Lia took her glass and downed it like water. She stared at it afterwards, as if willing it to be full again.

            "Put it down dear." Liath did. Now for the harder part. Alex wasn't half so good a drunk as Lia.

            "Aleeex...Alex..." She coaxed him out of his stupor and for a second he actually seemed coherent. He looked her straight in the eye and stated, "I would have given you the flat anyway."

            She wasn't sure whether or not to believe him, especially when he broke into hysterical giggles after he said it. She sighed. It was too late to stop now.

            "Just drink your shot Alex." Alex nodded enthusiastically and picked up his glass. But instead of drinking it he launched into a drunken soliquy, the kind of which Sarah had heard at least twice from him earlier in the night. The first had been about tax rebates, the second about the advantages of being drunk. This one was destined to top them all.

            "Where did all the elephants go?" He began in a singsong voice. "Doo-da! Doo-da! They are playing in the snow, oh the doo-da day. They are eating lots of corn. Doo-da. Doo-daaaaaa! They are playing bells and...TRUMPETS!" By this point he'd managed to climb up on his chair so that he was yelling to the entire pub. Lia was clapping happily, as were some of the other patrons. He looked about he room, grinning wildly. He stopped suddenly, taking a double take at a few nearby drinks.

            "Do you see the lizard in that Guinness? When I start seeing cats in drinks I know it's time to sit down!" And with that he fell to the floor and began laughing hysterically. The bartender was eyeing them.

            "It's amazing how a drunken man can still manage to hold his glass upright even when he's under the table," Sarah muttered. Not a single drop of Vodka had fallen from his shot, to the utter amusement of the nearest patrons.

            "Alex," she said a little more loudly, "Please drink your shot."

            He nodded again, sobering slightly. He put his head back and downed the shot. He sighed, mumbling bitterly "I hate this planet..." His face contorted in a sad grimace. "I hate having to tie my...what are they called? Sneakers..." Not a moment later he collapsed into unconsciousness.

            Sarah shook her head. Alex was a rather talkative drunk and none of it made sense. She turned to Liath.

            "Just one more drink dear and we'll have won." She poured the shot and handed it to her friend.

            "Okay," Lia said slowly. "Where is it?"

            "In your hand," Sarah replied carefully, hoping that Lia, who was already swaying in her chair, wouldn't collapse quite yet.

            "No its not! If it were in my hand, I would know!" Lia slapped her free hand down on the table. "See?"

            "Your other hand." Sarah had passed the point of being amused. Lia looked and sure enough there was her shot glass. She downed it as quickly as the one before and turned to grin proudly at Sarah.

            "We won," Sarah said, happy the ordeal was over.

            "Yeaaah." Liath sounded drowsy. "Yeaaah..." She collapsed.

            Sarah stared at her two flatmates and a look of realization spread over her face. She would have to get them home...


	4. Chumming & Ainther Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was inspired by the author's trip to Scotland. The tour guides lines are written in vernacular, so if it doesn't make sense, try sounding it out. An interlude comes next, once I can convince Kailla to aide me in writing it.

A/N: This was inspired by the author's trip to Scotland. The tour guides lines are written in vernacular, so if it doesn't make sense, try sounding it out. An interlude comes next, once I can convince Kailla to aide me in writing it.

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all attendant characters belong to Lucas. Shallow Grave to whoever produced it and Highlander and all 5000-year-old immortals to Rhysher.

            A cold wind was blowing through the heart of Edinburgh almost a month later. Three flat mates were playing tourists on the Royal Mile up to Edinburgh Castle.

            "And to your right," Sarah said loudly for the benefit of the video camera she held in one hand, "is an authentically genuine Scottish shop." She turned to Alex, making sure his boyish skin filled the view screen. "So, Alex, how are you enjoying your holiday so far?"

            "I'm freezing my bloody cuddie off…"He might have continued but Lia ran up, her hands suspiciously behind her back.

            "Alex!" she exclaimed happily. "I've got something for you! You're going to absolutely love it but you have to close your eyes…"

            Suppressing a giggle, Sarah made sure to keep the camera steady on her friends. This was going to be amusing.

            Alex obliged warily, closing his eyes with a look of trepidation. Liath's grin grew wider and she pulled her gift from behind her. It was red, blue and yellow plaid "Musical Jimmy" hat, complete with fake, flaming red hair. Technically it looked like a golfing hat. She pulled it over his head, the fake and real hair mingling into a rather horrid mess and pressed the button.

            He'd flinched a little as she put it on him but as the knowledge of what she'd done sunk in along with the cheap-beep version of the national anthem, a look of complete despair spread across his features.

            Sarah started to laugh. The image was way to amusing. "And I've got it on film!"

            "You…let me see!" Sarah stopped filming and rewound to when Liath had just put the hat on him. For a moment he looked upset but then he began to laugh. "C'mon, we're going to miss the bus up to the castle." Alex ushered them on board, while surrepticiously removing the hat from his head and relegating it to his back pocket. The driver glared at him as he fumbled for 70 pence, took his ticket and stumbled to the back, where he was forced to stand.

            It was the end of October, Halloween to be exact, and Edinburgh was in a festive mood. The girls had forced him to declare a holiday and accompany them to the heart of the city. He had never seen the castle or its' surrounding sites – that he could remember. With Liath and Sarah along, it was sure to be a memorable visit.

            In the past couple of weeks he had discovered many interesting facts about his new mates. For instance, their ability to cook was limited to how many dishes needed cleaning afterwards. And their sense of humor was decidedly odd. An example was the skull (real or fake he didn't want to know) they placed in the center of the table then covered in post it note reminders or the way they changed the answering machine message to lightsaber noises. He jumped every time he heard it. In short, they had their quirks but so did he and if he could just find another flat mate of their caliber, everything would be all right.

            The thought triggered a panic in him. Images appeared; his hand holding a severed braid, a knife embedded in his shoulder and the laughter of a long forgotten but evil face. He leaned against the pole banishing the images to the back of his mind. This was not going to happen. He was on holiday with his friends and _everything_ would be all right. Alex realized he was grinding his teeth together and stopped.

            The bus pulled into the parking lot of Edinburgh Castle.

            There was an old fashioned pub with an upstairs dining room down the street from the castle. It had good ambience and the food wasn't half bad. Their diner was interrupted once or twice by the footballers celebrating yet another victory. They finished up their meal and pushed their way through the heavily crowded downstairs. Lia paused to flirt with a Scot in a plaid kilt but Sarah jerked her onward.

            "Are you daft? We're going on the City of Terror Midnight Tour, remember?" Lia gave her an amused look.

            "I was only teasing. A horror tour of Edinburgh is much more important than my social life." Her smile took away any sting the words might have had. Alex seemed a little stressed though.

            "Just stop stalling and let's get on with it!" he snapped. They both stared at him.

            "Are you okay, Alex?" Sarah asked. He looked at somewhere past their heads and sighed. His hand reached up to play with some nonexistent bit of hair he must have had, then jerked his hand down again. Neither of them mentioned it. The last time they did, he had almost thrown them out.

            "I shouldn't be here!" He burst out. Some passersby stopped to stare at him but Liath gave them an evil look that got them moving again in a hurry.

            "What?" Sarah asked, puzzled by this mood swing from the happy lad they'd spent the day with. He looked rather confused.

            "Uh…sorry. It's nothing."

            "Your positive?" Sarah persisted. "We could just go home…" Lia glared at her but Alex shook his head.

            "No. If we're playing tourists, then we have to go all the way and that includes a tour of haunted Edinburgh." With a determined look, he offered both his arms to them and they began to walk up the steep hill. Sarah resolved to herself to keep and eye on Alex until they got home.

            It was blustering out, so they kept their heads down. The wind made their coats stream out behind them. When they finally sat down at he meeting place, in the courtyard of an old church, they were freezing cold and rather damp. The two other people waiting avoided their eyes. In the silence they could hear the wind whistling through the church's upper spires.

            It was one minute to midnight when their guide showed up-a dark haired woman in a black cloak that immediately sent pangs of jealously through Liath and Sarah.

            "Why can't I have a cloak like that?" Lia whispered to Sarah, who elbowed her to be quiet. The woman took a look around at the meager turnout. She attempted to pull the cloak tighter around herself, while still placing her hands on her hips.

            "It seems we may be getting' a wee bit 'o snow this ev'nin. 'Spose it must 'ave scared the crowds awee. There were at least thirty in the last group."

            The two other tourists, Americans by their accents, murmured in agreement. Apparently they were beginning to regret staying away from their cozy B&amp;B for so long. Alex and Lia snickered at their vacillation.

            "Well, if ye'll gader'ound," their guide said, leading them over to a round monument in the middle of the courtyard. She reached into her satchel, pulled out a whip and commenced with the tale of a couple of English traitors and their punishment. Sarah and Liath shared a look of amusement. This was definitely their kind of tour.

            They wandered the area of the Royal Mile, entertained at each stop by another gruesome tale. Alex seemed distracted and didn't even laugh at the morbidly funny parts, which having lived with him for the past month, they were sure he would. Lia tried teasing him to get a response but he shrugged it off, then hurried ahead of them down the steps to the crypt, looking very forlorn with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

            "What is wrong with that man?" Lia asked Sarah, who shrugged.

            "Who knows? Maybe he gets like this once a month…"They broke down in giggles but stopped when the echoes began to unnerve them. They hurried down the steps and waited at the corner with Alex for their guide to lead them down another slopping alleyway to the crypt entrance.

            The whitewash was peeling off the stones around a metal, padlocked door. Their guide undid the lock and was about to open the door when it opened for her. The Americans jumped.

            A gaunt, dark haired man in the cloak of a guide stepped out. His hair was gray despite the fact that he looked to be in his thirties and had a nose that in any other face would have been disfiguring. As it was, Lia gave Sarah an appreciative nudge and a delighted smile when he took over for their guide, with profuse apologies for her family emergency. Sarah noticed he looked tired. There was a good chance he had been woken up to take their little group.

            He stood in the doorway and sighed inaudibly. Then he drew himself up and into character and Sarah blinked because for a moment he did look like someone right out of the eighteenth century.

            Flourishing his cloak as any master magician might, he bowed to the small group and flashed a particularly evil grin. Liath gave an appreciative sigh and he began to speak.

            "Good ev'nin ladies an gents. If I may welcome ye once more to that world o' honted Edinburgh. I am yer new guide, Ad'm McNamara, an' it'll ne me pleasure to lead ye all into tha crypt." He opened the door wide in one sweeping gesture and then continued. "If I me r'mind ye, we w'll be 'n verrry close qu'rt'rs. Ef ye're clostrephobic, I dinnae think ye'll appreci'te thas nixt p'rt."

            No one spoke. The wind howled through the alley, moaning its' lament for the crypt. The Americans huddled closer together. Even Alex shivered and pulled his coat closer; suddenly wary of what might lie ahead.

            Still, he offered his arms to the ladies and when they had taken them, stepped through the open door. The Americans followed and Adam told them to shut the door behind them.

            Adam led them through another open doorway on the left. The floor was uneven and worn, and the ceiling, especially around any doorways, was very low. Everyone was forced to duck.

            "Maybe there should be a height requirement," Lia commented. Adam glanced back at her.

            "Aye. But den I wud nae be here telling ye stories." They shared a grin.

            The party made their way through the halls, stopping now and again in one room or another. There was an eerie air about the place and the hollow sound of the wind overhead and the dank, musty smell that pervaded the air did little to comfort. Each room had a story, from body snatching college students to a menacing man that demanded all tourists leave immediately. The Americans huddled together and as close to Adam as his wicked grins and occasional booming "story voice" would allow.

            Finally, they entered a large room that, judging by the rubble, used to have a lower ceiling. Adam cautioned them to keep back from the debris as he told them yet another tale.

            As it came to a close, Adam looked around his handful of guests. The Americans seemed satisfied, if a touch frightened and the two girls seemed to be hanging on his every word. The grin he gave them nearly faded as his glance passed over the last fellow. He seemed to be fiddling with a non-existent piece of hair and ready to run at any moment. Worst of all was the look in the young man's eyes. Adam had seen that look before, and despite his desire to tell one more particularly terrifying tale, he thought it would be best to end the tour now.

            "Anee quest'ns o' comments?" he asked simply and then with more malice, "O' per'aps a ghostly exper'ance of yer own?"

            Everyone looked at each other with perhaps a hint of embarrassment at not having a tale to tell. Adam almost sighed. He should have known better than to ask such a small group. Even if someone had such an experience, most were loath to tell unless surrounded by people and the six of them hardly constituted a crowd.

            Ghosts and the tales that went with them seemed and inevitable part of human life. He remembered believing wholeheartedly in such phenomenon when he was younger but his view had become much jaded since. Still there were things he'd seen…

He was snapped out of his revelry by a question from the dark haired girl.

            "Are there any ghosts specifically in this room?" Back to the job.

            "Well," he said slowly, his tone as dark as the sparkle in his eyes, "thar 'ave been a few inst'nces whar torists sich as yerselves 'ave seen a young lady in tha corner." He paused, pointing out a pile of rubble near some half hidden words on the wall. "Some say tha' she lays as tho' she ha' fallen. Othars say she es en a mang'l'd hep, weth t'rn an' bloody clothes but all agrae on one theng – tha' har throat es'lit clen across." Inevitably, their eyes followed his finger to the corner and the American couple's eyes widened. The two girls stated for a second, then grinned at each other. The lighter haired one mouthed, "cool". Their male companion, however, was not starring at the corner.

            Adam watched as his eyes slide upward to the top of the pile of rubble. The boy turned slowly white and Adam could almost see his heart rate speed up. His friends noticed the change and one of them asked if he was all right. He didn't answer. Adam hadn't worked here for long but he knew the signs. They should get out of here now, and later, perhaps, he could ask the boy what he'd seen.

            Before he could do so however the boy turned with a whimper of pain or fear, Adam couldn't tell, and ran out the door. They heard a slam. He must have chosen the nearest door, which Adam thought thankfully, happened to be the exit. Searching the crypt for a frightened boy at 2am was not his idea of fun.

            His companions were clearly alarmed and followed their friend. This time Adam did sigh but motioned for his remaining charges to follow him out the door.

            They exited into a tidy little bookshop but the kid was nowhere to be seen. His friends stood bewildered in the middle of the room. They could hear the traffic on the street above. The door to the outside was locked until the tourists paid their fare. That left only one place he could be.

            Adam walked over to the long countertop and peered over the various paraphernalia to see the boy huddled in a ball on top of a pile of blankets. He could see the boy's lips moving but he was hardly making a sound. Adam felt sorry for the guy and started to say something soothing but then stopped. In his past experience, people in shock did not respond to kind words. He needed stimulation.

            "Would you mind getting off my blankets?" His voice was sharp with his usual British tones as he dropped the thick Scottish accent he affected for the tours.

            The boy stopped muttering and looked up at him, his intense gaze suddenly vivid and searching. Adam frowned at the way the kid's eyes seemed to see through him.

            "You're blankets?"

            "Yes, _my _blankets." His tone got intentionally sharper. "I'm sleeping here until I can find a bloody flat."

            "You're sleeping on the floor of a crypt?" The boy was incredulous but Adam was relieved to see the amusement creep into his eyes, even if it _was_ at his expense. He heard laughter behind him and turned to see the boy's companions shaking with mirth. This hadn't been done for _their_ amusement. The dark haired one turned to her friend.

            "No wonder his hair _looked_ gray. The floor is covered in dust." They nearly collapsed in amusement, while their bewildered friend, two tourists and a guide looked on. The boy shook his head as if to clear it of the last vestiges of memories, then shared a look with Adam.

            "The things those two find amusing." He commented, totally ignoring the fact that he had been about to laugh himself a few minutes before. The American's just kept looking confused.

            Adam ushered them through the room and took the money for the tour, not even bothering to ask if they wanted the second half of it, which provided one, for an extra fee, with a cozy fireside chat and some ghost tales. Somehow he doubted they were interested.

            That left him alone with the other three, who paid their fees quickly. The girls asked their friend in low tones if he was all right, obviously wanting to speak with him alone. But Adam just couldn't let them leave that easily.

            "Wait," he looked down at the ledger, "Mr. Law. Can you…" He trailed off at the look on the kid's face. It would be painful if he continued for both of them.

            "Nevermind," he finished lamely. Adam fully expected them to leave them but Mr. Law got a strange look in his eyes. He glanced at the two girls with a question in his eyes, then back at him. They shrugged.

            Alex Law approached him then asked a very different question than Adam expected.

            "We have a room at our flat. It's yours if you want it?"


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, this was finally written. Yes, it is short, but that's why it's an interlude. The next chapter should come a bit faster since it's already half written.

A/N: Well, this was finally written. Yes, it is short, but that's why it's an interlude. The next chapter should come a bit faster since it's already half written.

*****

Interlude - Otherwise known as, "What Obi-wan Saw."

            Qui-gon settled into his seat on the transport with an exhausted sigh. The negotiations had gone well, and a good deal faster than Master Yoda had predicted. The wizened master had estimated a two year mission, but Qui-gon had chosen to be optimistic and tell Obi-wan only one year. He would have gotten another Jedi to take over if the negotiations had lasted longer, no matter what the council said. Obi-wan came first, and Qui-gon was anxious to see how he was doing. Qui-gon's dreams had been troubling him, but no amount of calm meditation had revealed their source.

            Unfortunately for him, the inhabitants of Earth had the technology to detect interstellar communications, despite their inability to comprehend them. This meant that all communications to and from Earth had to travel the old method of a written communiqué passed from ship to ship.

            His requests for a recent report on Obi-wan had been met with an awkward silence by all involved. Apparently a few ships had been lost and no one had had a true report from Earth for at least half a year, maybe more. Some polite questioning of a low level clerk had revealed the fact that Mr. Lucas, their contact on Earth, had a tendency to write his reports in advance, dating them for the months ahead so he wouldn't have to worry about them. Qui-gon was still mentally shaking his head at that one.

            No matter. He would know what was happening soon, and worry did not suit a Jedi. He took a deep breath and arranged himself in a position for meditation. His breathing slowed, his chest rising only slightly as he sank deeper within himself and by extension, the universe.

            _There it was. The ship he was in. The captain at his desk, one scaly hand tapping absently as he read a ship report. But this was not what Qui-gon had come to see. He pulled back. The ship rushed away, becoming a pinpoint in an ever growing sea._ _He took it all in, letting it flow through him as he sensed the space for lightyears around him._

_            Obi-wan. Everyone was in the Force, no less his far away apprentice. They had been so close. They were so close…So why was his signature hidden? There. Right there. _

_            So close. A blue and green planet like so many others. Still too far away. Obi-wan. _

            Abruptly he was there. Closer than he had been in the past year. He mentally 'knocked' at Obi-wan's mind but received no answer. No not true. Obi-wan was shielding, shielding with a strength Qui-gon hadn't thought him capable of. Qui-gon was hurt by the refusal and felt his focus start to slip, but sternly pushed the emotion away. Obi-wan must have a good reason for shielding, and at least Qui-gon knew he was alive and well now. He decided to try a little trick he had learned from Master Yoda all those years ago.

            He ignored the shield around Obi-wan's mind and slipped instead into his lower brain. The part that controlled such involuntary things as breathing, walking, hearing and seeing. While the lower brain could be shielded, he doubted Obi-wan would have thought of it. He would have to teach the boy later, but for now he was grateful.

            Qui-gon thought of how he had looked in the mirror that morning, visualizing himself with as much detail as possible. He took that image and inserted it straight into Obi-wan's visual centre. The boy should be seeing a life size image of him. He pictured himself smiling and began to talk. It was very difficult, since you had to keep a clear picture of yourself in your mind at all times. As it was, Obi-wan was probably seeing a pale imitation of his true self. He began with a simple greeting and intended to go on by asking Obi-wan to let him into his mind, or at least tell him what was wrong somehow.

            He did not expect the out right rejection he encountered. Fear. Anger. The emotions rippled outward and he was forced out. His eyes snapped open and he blinked in surprise. The last sense he had gotten from Obi-wan had been pure terror. _A hand holding a severed braid._ What was happening there? Why had Obi-wan rejected him so fiercely? He closed his eyes and asked his questions of the universe at large. They echoed along the Force, but in two hours time he was no closer to his answers.

*****

Next Time: Qui-gon (finally!) arrives on Earth. Mr. Lucas puts in a personal appearance.

Please review. We'd really like to know how we're doing here:)

Disclaimer: Although this may be our two credits worth. We are not earning a daktari and all credit goes to the Master of all Jedi, the Great Flanneled one whom we can but call by the name – Lucas. Nor do we obtain a pence from Shallow Grave.


	6. The Illusion of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Obviously we don't own this stuff.

Disclaimer: Obviously we don't own this stuff.

The Illusion of Truth

            Qui-gon entered the building and held out his plastic ID card for the third time. The security guard checked it over with feigned boredom and handed it back. He checked a list.

            "This says you have an appointment at 1:15 Mr. Jinn. If you'll just have a seat for a moment. I'm sure he'll see you soon." Qui-gon nodded and took one of the plush chairs situated against the wall. He shifted around in it trying to find a good position. It wasn't as comfortable as it looked.

            Qui-gon put it out of his mind and drew upon the Force, meditating on this mission, the planet and more specifically Obi-wan. After awhile he pulled out of the trance and stifled a sigh. Obi-wan was on the planet, he was sure of that but Qui-gon couldn't contact him as he should have been able too.

            Then there was the Council's operative on Earth, who was now, Qui-gon checked his chrono, 45 minutes late in seeing him. The man was apparently running some sort of entertainment industry, judging by the odd memorabilia scattered throughout the building. Though Qui-gon was at a loss about what 'Industrial Light and Magic' meant.

            This was a strange planet. The clothing he'd been given was rather garish for his tastes and was light or loose in places he wasn't used to. The shoes, called speakers or something, had been too small for him and he'd been forced to wear his boots underneath the tight pants. It made everything even more uncomfortable. Qui-gon found himself comparing his bus ride to Mr. Lucas' complex to the time he'd spent in the trenches as a mediator during the Felth war. At least in the Felth war he'd been in Jedi robes. He wondered how Obi-wan was faring with the local fashions.

            Qui-gon was so occupied in his critique of Earth's fashion sense that he didn't notice the short figure approaching him.

            "Be you who?" said a child's lilting voice. Qui-gon looked and nearly jumped out of his chair. A small child wearing a very life-like Yoda mask stood next to him.

            'What?" he said after his heart beat returned to normal.

            "Be you who?" said the child, with a seeming infinite amount of patience. Qui-gon sorted through the backwards imitation Yoda speak and gave his answer.

            "I'm a friend of Mr. Lucas. Who are you?" It was unnerving to talk to someone in a mask of Yoda. Especially since that mask shouldn't even exist. He was going to have a serious talk with Mr. Lucas.

            The child pushed back his mask reveling a little boy's chubby face.

            "I'm Master Yoda." The boy said as if it were obvious. Qui-gon had to smile.

            "Christopher!" yelled a rather frazzled looking woman. "I thought I told you to stay in the room?" Christopher nodded but looked unperturbed. He pulled his Yoda mask back on and the woman took his hand, after telling him not to talk to strangers, and pulled him off down the hall.

            "May the Force be with you!" shouted the little boy before he rounded the corner. Qui-gon shook his head. This is what Mr. Lucas thought of keeping a low profile?

            He saw another woman in a tight something enter and look around the room. "Mr. Jinn?" she asked even though he was the only one waiting. "Mr. Lucas will see you now." Qui-gon nodded and walked through the door she was holding open. He found himself in yet another office and was at a loss until he noticed the rich wooden doors leading to yet another room. The secretary returned to her desk, ignoring him, so he walked across the thick carpet and opened the other doors.

            A humanoid male with a graying beard and hair sat in front of an expensive desk. Qui-gon quickly took in the room, noting the tasteful paintings and potted plants arranged in the same manner he had seen in so many diplomats and politicians offices over the years. The plush carpet was a neutral blue color that matched nicely with the pattern on the chairs scattered strategically throughout the room. The effect was rather ruined by the large jar resembling a wookie's head that sat on one corner of the desk. Not to mention that the man was wearing a plaid casual shirt that Qui-gon was sure was not respectable formal attire on this planet.

            "Ah, Master Qui-gon Jinn. Welcome to the planet Earth," said the man with a smile. His voice had quavered when he said Qui-gon's name though. "What can I do for you?" Qui-gon did not return the smile but made sure he was meeting Lucas' eyes.

            "You can bring me to my apprentice and then you can explain what you have been doing on this planet that wasn't in your reports." Inwardly Qui-gon winced at his bluntness, but he was not going to play word games when Obi-wan was at stake.

            "Won't you sit down Master Jinn?" said Mr. Lucas, his smile wavering. Qui-gon studied him for a moment then took a seat. Remaining standing could have been considered a threat, and while Qui-gon did feel like threatening him at the moment, that was not the Jedi way. Lucas lifted the head off the wookie head and pushed the container towards him. "Cookie?" Qui-gon shook his head, then did a quick force calming exercise before his impatience began to show. He couldn't help but have the feeling that every second they wasted here was another second that Obi-wan was suffering.

            "Tell me. How does a wookie's head end up as a cookie jar on your desk when the people of this planet aren't even supposed to know they exist yet?"

            "I was given discretionary powers to reveal the truth about our galaxy to these people in way I chose fit."

            "So you chose to market it?" Qui-gon was incredulous.

            "Not market it exactly. I just made a movie of it, and then things got a little out of hand. Who knew it would catch on? You sure you don't want a cookie?"

            "Mr. Lucas. I frankly don't care what you have been doing on this world, though you can rest assured it will find its way into my report. I haven't seen my apprentice in over a year and would like to get reacquainted. We can continue this talk later." Qui-gon stood up. He knew that Lucas would jump at the chance of postponing their talk, but Lucas was surprisingly reluctant to take him to Obi-wan.

            "Yes. Your apprentice. I haven't seen him recently."

            "You're one report said he had arrived here safely and you were putting him to good use." It must have been one of Lucas' reports he had written and sent on in anticipation of Obi-wan's arrival, because Lucas almost began to squirm in his seat. A look of desperation crossed his face and he said very quickly.

            "Actually, he never arrived, and I haven't seen him at all." Qui-gon froze in front of the man, then fixed him with a look that had made kings tremble.

            "You didn't even search for him."

            "He should have contacted me. My name is well known here. There was no way he could miss me. I assumed he hadn't arrived at all. I had to use someone else in his place." Lucas said it all in a rush and Qui-gon found himself pitying the man in the same way he pitied many of the strays Obi-wan always chided him for picking up.

            "He is on the planet. I have sensed him, but he doesn't let me in." He turned the full force of his gaze on Mr. Lucas. "You are going to help me find him Mr. Lucas." Lucas nodded his head, willing to agree to anything if it would get the Jedi out of his office. He picked up his telephone and called his secretary, setting the ball in motion.

            It had been nearly two weeks since they found their new flatmate, and all had gone surprisingly well. Adam fit in well with the flats routine of disorderliness and craziness. His habit of downing beer as if it were going out of style endeared him to Alex, while his apparent in depth knowledge of any time in history made for some fascinating tales around the dinner table. He also could cook when he was of a mind to, and they were surprised to discover he was gourmet. Somehow they never got around to asking him how he got the money to pay for all those hard to find ingredients or the flat for that matter, on a tour guide's salary.

            Alex, however, was prone to bouts of depression ever since his panic-attack in the crypts. No matter how they asked, the women could get no explanation of what had happened out of him, and he seemed to withdraw daily into a stupor that involved staring at the walls for long amounts of time, then finding more beer. Between him and Adam they must have gone through twenty cases of beer in just the past week.

            Sarah was sitting in the kitchen, reading a magazine when Liath stormed in. Adam was sprawled across two of the other chairs with a beer and some ancient looking book.

            "This has to stop! I don't know if his liver or his heart will give out first, but Alex is destroying himself and we are the only ones who can help him." Adam looked up from his book.

            "Some people don't want to be saved." Liath held her ground stubbornly, despite the fact that Adam could make her feel five years old sometimes.

            "And Alex isn't one of them." Sarah frowned at her.

            "What do you think we should do then? Besides what we've already tried." Lia shook her head and sat down in the remaining chair.

            "That's just it. I don't have a clue." Just then a door slammed, and they all listened in silence as Alex made his way drunkenly to his room.

            "We can't discuss this here," said Sarah. "Why don't we go to that coffee shop down the road?" Liath nodded and got up to go. On a whim she grabbed Adam's book and took his wrist in her hand.

            "You're coming too. Don't argue." Adam glared at her, but didn't even attempt to get out of her iron grip.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Please review this and let us know what you think, even if you think this is horrible. Also, since we have no idea when the next chapter will be out, we're adopting a policy I've been using on one of my other stories. Not everyone has author alert, so if you would like to be emailed when the next chapter is out, please tell me in a review and I will add you to the list.


	7. Intersections In Real Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Dark Fire for reminding me that I hadn't updated this story in awhile. I apologize to all my readers, but I write about seven stories on this site (not to mention my book…) and I somehow manage to go to uni as well, so there isn't much time to write most days. I am also not the fastest writer in the world, despite my efforts to the contrary, so, thank you to all my reviewers. It's really your encouragement that keeps me writing here.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Dark Fire for reminding me that I hadn't updated this story in awhile. I apologize to all my readers, but I write about seven stories on this site (not to mention my book…) and I somehow manage to go to uni as well, so there isn't much time to write most days. I am also not the fastest writer in the world, despite my efforts to the contrary, so, thank you to all my reviewers. It's really your encouragement that keeps me writing here.

Disclaimer: Well it's still not ours…

Altered States #6 – Intersections In Real Time

            Qui-gon strode into the room, barely sparing a glance for the spacious quarters that Lucas had provided him with. He settled himself, cross-legged onto the bed and took an object out of his pocket that had never been far from him in the past year. Obi-wan's stone was slightly warm in his hand, and he was struck once again by the beautiful golden lines imbedded in it that had called the rock to him all those years ago. He settled a little gift of Lucas' in front of him. A map of Earth in obscenely bright colours. With both the rock and the map, he should be able to narrow in on Obi-wan's position with or without the boy's cooperation.

            He took a breath and settled deep into meditation, the rock cradled gently in his strong hands.

            _There was this planet. Teeming with strange life. All familiar to the Force. So many languages, people and customs, but he did not need to understand them to find Obi-wan. He focused on the rock, willing it to remember its time in Obi-wan's care. Obi-wan had spent many hours meditating over this rock. It knew him and Qui-gon knew him too.                       He let himself become a conduit for the rock. Let it seek out its master. _

            Qui-gon didn't know how long he sat there, but it was dark in the room when he opened his eyes. He looked down. The rock lay on the map. He lifted up the rock and read the name of the country. The United Kingdom. That was where he needed to go.

            Two days later, Qui-gon found himself standing across from a set of buildings somewhere in the city of Edinburgh. There was a drizzling rain coming down that managed to soak anyone who was out in it for more than five minutes. Qui-gon had been enduring it in silence for over an hour.

He had found Obi-wan. In fact, he had seen him go in only a little while ago. But it hadn't been the Obi-wan he remembered. This young man was wearing the clothes of this planet like they belonged on him, right down to the fact that he had probably been sleeping in them for the past few nights. He had walked drunkenly up to the door and fumbled with his keys. When he bent down to pick them up, Qui-gon had had a clear view of the other side of his head. No braid.

Qui-gon stood there and waited. He wanted to run up to that door, knock it down and burst into whichever flat was Obi-wan's. He wanted to demand why Obi-wan was shutting him out, why Obi-wan was arriving at his flat at three in the afternoon dead drunk. Instead, he stood silently underneath the scant shelter provided by a door lintel. He waited patiently for the Force to show him the proper way.

The door opened and two women and a tall man came out. One of the women had the man's wrist in a death grip. Qui-gon would have ignored them, but he felt the Force surge through him, and with one last glance at the door across from him, followed the trio down the street.

It was raining when the three of them left the flat, but it was always raining in Edinburgh. Sarah and Liath didn't even bother to pull up the hoods on their coats. Adam complained about the weather the entire way, but he always complained about the weather. The one time Liath had pointed out that he didn't have to live here, he had acted offended, and she was forced to drop the subject.

And so they found themselves some minutes later ensconced in the comfy if oddly shaped chairs that littered the nearby coffee house. Adam was sharing a pot of tea with Liath, while Sarah was enjoying a caramel macchiato. Everyone focused on fixing (or just stirring) their respective drinks until they were staring at each other over the oblong table.

"So," said Sarah. "What do we do about Alex?" Adam took a long sip of his tea, then spoke.

"Has he always been like this?" he asked. Lia grimaced into her tea.

"If you mean that he's moody. Yes, definitely, but he usually snaps out of his funks. Well, he did for the month we knew him before you did," she said.

"We don't know much about his life before," said Sarah. "He likes his privacy." Liath snorted.

"It's more like he bites your head off if you mention it," she explained to Adam. They all went back to their drinks until Liath spoke again. "We should have two goals. One to find out what happened to him in the past that made him freak out in the crypt and go into his current state of depression and two, to figure out what we can do now to get him back to his normal, annoying self."

"What makes you think that there is anything we can do for him?" asked Adam. Lia gave him an annoyed look.

"You're here aren't you?"

"Only because you dragged me here," he pointed out. Sarah sighed and decided to break up the two of them. They could bicker for ages if they wanted to, though as far as she could tell, neither was actually serious about it.

"Why don't we get him drunk?" she suggested.

"Didn't we already do that?" said Liath, whose memories of that night (or any other night they had spent at the pub with him) were practically non-existent after a certain point.

"But we didn't ask him any questions while he was pissed. He's pretty talkative after he's had a few drinks. We could probably learn anything we want to know," Sarah pointed out.

"And if he remembers it the next day?" asked Adam. Lia shrugged.

"He'll kill us," she said and frowned. "I suppose he could kick us out of the flat as well. It is technically his, even if we do have permission to store a corpse under the floor boards." Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Can we not go into this again?" she said. Adam looked curious.

"Corpses?" he asked while taking a sip of tea. Lia launched into a vivid description of their interview for the flat, while Sarah ignored them and looked around the room. There were only three other people in the room for some reason, despite the time of day, and two of them were the employees behind the counter. The only customer was a big man. He had long brownish grey hair and made the overlarge coffee cup seem properly sized against his hands. He caught her looking and met her gaze. She froze.

He was looking inside her, and she was caught within the icy blue eyes. He didn't seem to move, but suddenly he was up and walking towards them. Sarah had to fight to pull her eyes away. It felt like she was trying to drag them through sand on a thin string and even when she looked away, she had the impression that he had let her go. She opened her mouth to warn her friends, but by then he had reached their table.

"Good evening," he said in a warm voice. Adam and Lia gave him some non-committal nods. Now that he was so close, Sarah could see that his clothing was sopping wet.

"You should at least wear a coat in this weather. You can catch a nasty chill if you're not used to it," she heard herself say. The man looked amused.

"I shall keep that in mind." He essayed a little bow to them all. "My name is Qui-gon Jinn. I am sorry to trouble you, but I could not help but overhear your discussion about your flatmate." Liath looked sceptical.

"You overheard our conversation from all the way over there?" She gestured at his recently vacated table. Qui-gon smiled mysteriously.

"I have good ears." Both Sarah and Lia rolled their eyes at the useless answer, while Adam looked at the man with suspicion.

"Do you know Alex?" asked Sarah. Did she see a flicker of surprise in Qui-gon's eyes?

"Yes. I know Alex, but I know him by the name Obi-wan Kenobi." They all stared at him.

"Like in Star Wars?" asked Lia incredulously.

"What do you mean by 'like in Star Wars'?" he asked. Liath shook her head.

"I mean Obi-wan Kenobi was a Jedi knight in the Star Wars movie. You've never seen it?" she asked.

"Sorry," said Qui-gon. "This movie wasn't directed by a Mr. Lucas was it?" Sarah nodded.

"It was," she said. Adam spoke up for the first time since Mr. Jinn had come over to their table.

"What do you want with Alex?" he asked pointedly. Qui-gon appeared to study the man before answering.

"I want to help him. He is like a son to me, and I don't like to see him in such a state."

"Neither do we," muttered Sarah.

"Why approach us then?" asked Adam. "You followed us from the flat, so you obviously know where he is." Sarah and Lia exchanged incredulous looks. Adam was a lot more perceptive than they had ever given him credit for if he had noticed them being followed by this strange man. Qui-gon looked saddened.

"I don't think Obi-wan is the young man I remember," he said. Would Obi-wan reject him in person just like he had mentally? The flatmates exchanged looks.

"You can't see Alex," said Adam flatly, "though you are welcome to tell us anything you know about him. Once we have more information, we may let you see him." Qui-gon frowned. There was something very disconcerting about this young man. A door slammed behind them, and everyone turned to look.

Alex took an unsteady step into the room, than froze when his eyes took in their unexpected visitor. His face grew very pale and he turned to leave.

"Alex wait!" said Qui-gon in a commanding voice. Alex didn't even pause. He was out the door when Qui-gon tried again. "Obi-wan!" They all held their breath, but the open door did not close, and slowly Alex made his way in again. He took a deep breath and marched up to Mr. Jinn. He looked the man resolutely in the eye, though Sarah could see that his hands were clenched to keep them from shaking.

"What do you want?" he demanded. Qui-gon was pretty sure what the answer to his question would be, but he had to ask.

"Don't you recognize your own Master, Obi-wan?"

Next Chapter: Alex's answer and an old friend of Alex's shows up and causes even more trouble.

Please review.


	8. Intimate Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you haven't seen Shallow Grave by this point, this chapter is really going to confuse you.

A/N: If you haven't seen Shallow Grave by this point, this chapter is really going to confuse you.

Disclaimer: insert standard disclaimer here

Altered States #7 – Intimate Stranger

            "You're a ghost, or something," muttered Alex. He raised his voice. "And I want you to leave me alone!" The tall man just gave him a sad and disappointed look. Alex felt strangely chagrined. "I don't call anyone Master," he added, hoping he was making a point. He had come here for some coffee to dull his buzz. Adam had drunk the last cup, than left a polite if useless note telling someone else to get more.

            "Obi-wan, you're drunk. Please have a seat and let me explain," said the strange man patiently. Come to think of it, why was he responding to that name anyway? It sounded Chinese…

"Yeah, Obi-wan. Have a seat," snickered Liath under her breath. Sarah elbowed her. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

Alex shook his head. "Go away," he said desperately. "Stay out of my dreams. Stay out of my mind, and most importantly stay out of my life!" He turned and rushed out of the shop. Qui-gon did nothing to stop him.

"That went well," said Adam, draining his cup of tea, and placing it with a determined clink on the table top. "I have just one question." Qui-gon, Lia and Sarah all looked attentively at him. Adam stared at the man.

"Why are you wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt?" he asked. He had been distracted by the psychedelic coloured shirt ever since he realized that a so-called Jedi was wearing it. The girls focused on the shirt as well, than burst into laughter.

Qui-gon looked down at his admittedly colourful shirt. The girl in the shop had assured him it was perfect for him. On the plus side, it seemed to have convinced the trio of his good intentions. Liath motioned for him to take a seat, so he pulled an empty chair over from one of the other tables and sat down.

"So," began Sarah thoughtfully. "If you're a Jedi you can use the Force." Qui-gon frowned at her. These people obviously knew quite a lot about the galaxy, but it was all through the medium of something called Star Wars. Who knew what Mr. Lucas had gotten wrong? He came to a decision.

"Yes, I can," he said. Lia looked sharply at her friend, realising what she was up to.

"So perhaps you could give us a demonstration. A visible one preferably," asked Sarah. Qui-gon shifted his chair so it blocked the view of the coffee shop employees, and quickly looked around to make sure only Obi-wan's friends would see his little demonstration. Master Yoda would probably scold him for using the Force in such a manner, but if it convinced these people of his sincerity, he was willing to forgo a little pride. He concentrated on the table. Gently, the tea cups slid off their saucers, and the two saucers hovered into the air to circle around each other at a dizzying speed.

Lia clapped her hands together in delight. "Oooo. Can you make them dance?" she said. Sarah hit her upside the head.

"Just ignore her," Sarah said to Qui-gon as he lowered the saucers back to the table. "We should never have let her have caffeine."

"Perhaps you could tell us more of your story, and more about Alex," said Adam in a careful tone. The floating saucers seemed to have unnerved him. They listened quietly, and perhaps in a bit of awe at Qui-gon's tale.

"So Lucas is an alien?" exclaimed Lia at one point "I'm never going to be able to take that man seriously again."

"You took him seriously before?" asked Sarah. Lia shrugged.

"It's the plaid shirts. They get you every time," she said. Adam shushed her, and they let Qui-gon continue his story. When he finished, they sat in silence for a moment. Finally, Sarah spoke up.

"What do you want from us then? You've already spoken to Alex. There's really not much more we can do," she said.

"Even if Alex is who you say he is, he obviously doesn't believe it," pointed out Adam.

"He could have amnesia," suggested Lia. Adam nodded in agreement.

"Like in your book?" asked Sarah.

"Well hopefully not like in my book. That's just weird," said Lia. "I doubt Alex is a woman in disguise anyway."

"Do I even want to know?" asked Adam. He addressed Qui-gon. "As Sarah said, what do you want of us?" Qui-gon regarded the young man and his two companions. He felt unsettled after recounting the events that had brought him to the planet. There was something here he was unable to comprehend.

"The Force is telling me to wait for Obi-wan," he said, ignoring their half sceptical looks. He stood up and pushed his wet hair over his shoulder. "I will contact you shortly once the Force reveals what I should do." He left the shop, not even noticing the pouring rain as he was lost deep within his meditations.

The three flatmates watched him go. Sarah sighed as she looked at their empty cups. "So what do _we_ do about Alex, or Obi-wan, or whatever you want to call him?" she asked the others.

            "We treat him like normal," said Adam flatly. "If he wants to forget then let him."

            "And let him destroy himself?!" exclaimed Liath rather loudly.

"I believe we already had this debate today," he said. "I'm not even sure if we should believe Mr. Jedi and his tale."

"What do you think he is then? How do you explain the saucers?" asked Sarah. Adam considered this.

"Maybe he's insane. He watched Star Wars too many times. So he can levitate saucers. You have no idea of what some people on this planet can do," he said. Sarah and Lia wondered what people he was talking about. Lia considered asking him what he meant, but she knew from experience you would never get a straight answer out of Adam unless he wanted to give you one.

"If Alex does have amnesia he could never remember his former life, or he could remember tomorrow," she said instead, then paused. "Maybe we should do some judicious searching of the nearby hospitals. They might have a record of his stay, if it happened around here. He did mention that he's lived in Edinburgh for awhile didn't he?" Sarah nodded in agreement.

"And how do you suggest we get the hospitals to give up confidential patient information?" asked Adam in a sardonic tone. Lia smiled sweetly at him.

"I'm sure you'll think of a way," she said. He just glared at her.

            Alex flopped down on his bed, not even bothering to kick off his shoes. His door was shut against the intrusion of his flatmates, and that was all he really needed to have some privacy.

            He wanted to sleep, and he certainly felt tired enough to do so, but his thoughts would not settle down. The image of that man kept intruding. His face had been calm, but Alex had cringed inside when he saw the sadness in the man's eyes.  He flipped over, and buried his face in his nearby pillow. He didn't want to think about this.

            Alex didn't remember falling asleep. In fact, he was sure that his inner turmoil just continued on in his mind, but it was interrupted by the strangest sensation. Someone's arms were around him. The gentle sensation of hands on his body. Soft kisses running down his chest. A quiet yet familiar voice whispering sweet words. _My love.__ My friend. Alex. Alex. My love. Where is it? Where did you hide the rest? My love. Where did you hide it? _

            The voice grew louder, and the hands were no longer soft but demanding…Alex jerked up and tried to breath, but found his mouth covered by another's lips. He pushed her away just as the door to his room slammed open. Adam stood in the doorway looking concerned, but Alex could only see the woman who was crouched at the other end of his bed. _Juliet_.

            "Juliet," he whispered, than shivered. His shirt was missing and his trousers were undone.

She looked just like he remembered her. Her blond hair was lose and mussed. She wore a flowing white shirt and nothing else he could see. Those beautiful blue eyes of hers were glaring at Adam with a horrible intensity.

            "Alex," said Adam slowly. "Far be it for me to interfere in your love life, but she broke into the flat." He displayed the object that was in his left hand. "With an axe." Alex looked back over at Juliet.

            "Juliet," he said. "Why?" The word held all the anguish of his cries over a year ago when she had driven that knife deeper and deeper into his chest. She gave him a desperate look.

            "Just tell me where it is, Alex, than we can be happy. We can share the money. I don't mind. And no one will remember what happened. Not even me. Isn't that what you told me once? That you wished you could forget?" Her voice was hoarse with emotion. It was like a stranger was talking to him.

            "I told you I wanted to remember," he said softly. "And to live." She leant eagerly towards him.

            "We can do that too!" she pleaded, letting one of her hands rest on his leg. What had happened to her?

            "Get out," he whispered, than spoke louder. "Get out!" She looked taken aback. She quickly found her skirt and pulled it on. She stopped near the door and was about to say something, but then Adam swung the axe in an arc making it whistle. Juliet glared at him, but Adam met her hard stare with one of his own.

            She looked longingly at Alex, making something deep within him respond. He almost called her back, but something instinctive stopped him. This wasn't right.

            Adam disappeared as he escorted her to the door, but soon came back, the axe still in his hand.

            "I'm going to sleep by the door until we can get it fixed in the morning," he said. "You," he gestured with the axe, "Will be explaining a few things in the morning." He looked very menacing just standing there, and Alex found himself agreeing to the command, despite his great reluctance to explain.

            His door was closed, and Alex lay back down. He stared at the ceiling a long time before sleep overtook him.

Next chapter: Juliet just can't stay away, but neither can Qui-gon. Will Alex's flatmates ever learn the truth? Will Alex find some peace?

Thank you to all my reviewers. Please review:)


	9. Memento Mori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8: Memento Mori

Chapter 8: Memento Mori

            Alex wished he had a hangover when he woke up the next morning. It would have given him something else to think about other than Juliet and his upcoming confrontation with his flatmates. Pulling on his discarded shirt, he made his way as quietly as possible over to his door. Opening it a crack, he peered through and could just make out that Adam, or at least Adam's boots, was guarding the front door. Cautiously, he opened the door further and stuck his head out.

            Adam was curled up against the door, the axe clutched protectively in one hand. His eyes were closed and his breathing looked regular. Alex stared at him for a few moments, then took a deep breath. One. Two. Three…

            He sprinted across the floor aiming for the door. Adam opened his eyes just as Alex gathered himself for his jump. He went flying over the reclining man, wincing as his body slammed through the mangled door. A ripping noise heralded the demise of his shirt.

            Whether it was the crack of the door when it was hit, or the rather loud rip that attracted the attention of the women, Adam would never know. All he knew was that they all but tripped over him in their efforts to catch Alex. It was all he could do to keep Sarah from landing in his face, or Lia's knees from hitting something very precious. They all recovered quickly though, and were heading down the stairs much faster than he was sure Alex would have liked.

            When the trio reached the entrance to the street, the long-legged man pulled ahead of his companions with the axe still in hand. If it weren't for the car that slammed into Adam when he was halfway across the road, he probably would have caught up to Alex first.  As it was, the two remaining flatmates ground to a halt in shock. Neither noticed when the blonde-haired driver of the vehicle leapt out and began chasing after Alex.

            "Is he…" said Sarah in disbelief.

            "Dead? Caput? Kicking the bucket? Swimming with the fishes? Six feet un…" said Liath, quite cheerfully for someone who had just watched a gruesome accident.

            "You are so morbid, Lia."

            "Well, thank you. I try…Though I don't normally go for as much blood and guts as we're viewing now. I'll never think of ketchup the same way again."

            Sarah slapped her friend. Adam was dead, for goodness sake. He was worth a little respect.

            "All the more reason to make jokes," Lia responded to the unspoken thought. "It's a coping mechanism…" She took a few steps forward and nudged the corpse a bit with her foot. "So what are we supposed to do when…something like this happens? Aren't we supposed to call emergency services?  And where did the driver go? Did we ever take the noodles off the burner? Or the tea for that matter…"

            Sarah was considering running back up to the flat to get her mobile and make sure lunch wasn't boiling over when something odd happened.

Adam started gasping. And coughing. And muttering in a language that neither woman could recognize. None of this was unusual, except for the fact that he had been dead a moment before.

            "I didn't think anyone could live with their rib up through their…" Lia trailed off.

            Sarah nearly fainted as the bits that were supposed to be inside, but had ended up outside went back to where they belonged. Everything that had been mangled or otherwise damaged healed entirely. The man himself moaned, glaring at his flatmates warily as he sat up. Lia seemed to be blinking in shock. Sarah was regaining her colour.

            "You're… alive," the latter managed, her voice surprisingly steady.

            "So, do you have Dr. Frankenstein's card?" asked Lia as she finally found her voice.

            "No, but I know where Mary Shelley's birthmark was." Death did not seem to have stolen Adam's sense of humour.  "I suppose neither of you bothered to chase after Alex or his psychotic girlfriend?"

            "You're not… dead?" asked Sarah.

            "Psychotic girlfriend?" asked Liath. Adam hung his head in despair for a moment.

            "The crazy bitch who was driving the car broke in last night with-" He searched around where he was standing and picked up the axe. "this, and tried to seduce Alex."

            "With the axe?" asked Lia. Adam glared at her.

            "Where were we?" Sarah asked.

            "Sleeping soundly like babies and winning the most likely to be axed in your beds awards," said Adam.

            "So why aren't you dead?" asked Sarah, since it seemed like Adam was trying to get them off topic. Adam looked away from them for a moment considering.

            "I'm immortal," he said quietly, then ran off in the direction Alex had gone.

            "Well that doesn't explain anything," complained Lia.

            "Do we really want to know?" They both looked at each other.

            "Yes," they said simultaneously, and followed after him.

            Qui-gon was walking the streets of Edinburgh, his thoughts focused on the troubled young man he had met yesterday. In some ways, it reminded him of his first meeting with Obi-wan all those years ago, but this young man had no knowledge of the Force, no sense of what he was, or what he could be.

            He had mediated all night, asking for the answers he craved, but all the Force told him was to wait. To be patient. Something Qui-gon had always had trouble doing when someone he cared for was in danger.

His walking was a compromise. A compromise between his need for action and his need to wait.

            He turned down a different street, full of brightly coloured awnings advertising the various shops. There were a few people scattered about, entering or coming out of this shop or that. It was neither busy nor abandoned, and was in fact quite average looking.

Average, and yet there was something about this place.

It tugged at his mind, and the Force whispered to him. It was like an echo. Had something happened here? The Jedi master closed his eyes, meditating on this sensation.

Rain and cold…Anger and curiosity…Darkness.

            Qui-gon opened his eyes once more. There had been something else, a faint thought attached to the darkness.

Xanatos.

* * *

Alex didn't know where he was going, but he knew that someone was still following him. He dodged down another street, narrowly avoiding crashing into some bins that had been blown across the pavement. The footsteps followed behind him. He had to run faster. His eyes were half-closed in concentration, and it almost felt like his feet weren't even hitting the pavement.

It was his feet that were guiding him as he rounded a corner. A woman carrying her shopping glared at him as he dodged past, but Alex didn't notice. His thoughts were focused on getting away, but something was intruding on them. There was a…presence ahead of him, and he was confused as to whether he should be running towards, or away from it.

He skidded to a halt, blinking as he once again focused on the world around him. Standing near a shop, a short distance away was that man from yesterday. The one who had been wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt, but claimed to be a Jedi. The one who had called him Obi-wan.

Alex backed away. He couldn't deal with this now. Not now, and never again. He turned to run, but was brought up short when he saw who was standing behind him.

Juliet stood. Her blonde hair was loose around her face and she was breathing heavily. He froze. There was no where to go. No where to run.

She stalked towards him, and he was trapped in his memories. Memories of her back when the three of them were…No. He had to stop thinking of those times. She wasn't the same person. She had driven a knife through him, in more ways than one.

"You can't hide from me, dear Alex. I want what's mine. I don't need it all, just some. I played a part in this too, and we must finish it for dear, departed, David." She laughed softly to herself, walking ever closer to him. Alex was breathing heavily as he panicked. He backed away from her, but how far could he back away before he was trapped?

Another step back, and he stopped. She was babbling still, about how he owed her, about how she owed him, but never about what they had done to each other. Never about how they had ruined their lives. No more. He was broken. A failure, but that did not mean he deserved this. That did not mean he wasn't going to go down fighting.

He stared at her, willing her to go away. To stop. But his vision of her was clouded by his memories of her before. She had been so…perfect back then. He closed his eyes and blanked the image of her from his mind. Only the thought remained. _Go away. Stop. No more. You will not harm me again! _

Adam twirled the axe in his hands. It wasn't his favourite sort of weapon, but it would certainly get the job done. He was close enough now that he could feel Juliet's presence, though it wasn't as strong as it would be after she'd met death. Of course, if he had anything to do with it, she wouldn't be waking up…

He ran around the next corner, only to stop short. The Jedi stood a ways down the road, and Alex was before him. Between Alex and himself stood the bitch in question. It wasn't the way Juliet was approaching Alex that worried him, or even the Jedi's presence. It was the way Alex had closed his eyes and was concentrating.

And then the woman was flying backwards toward the corner of a building. She impacted with an awful sounding crack, and came to rest against the wall with her head and back bent at inhuman angles. This was not good. Not good at all.

To make matters worse, his two flatmates hadn't been looking where they were going and ran directly into him. At least he had the sense to keep the axe in front of him, and neither of them were hurt. It was a miracle he had kept his footing.

"Ewwww…blood…" Liath said, pushing Sarah away.  Unfortunately, while Adam may have healed entirely, this did not mean the blood that had soaked into his clothes miraculously disappeared.

"Serves you right for teasing me about running slowly," Sarah returned, double-checking her shirt. She had been fortunate enough to only run into Lia's back.  "Wait," she added when she saw the blonde woman slumped beside the building, "is that the driver that hit you? Who did that?"

"Alex," the immortal responded grimly. "Without touching her at all."

"I knew he was a Jedi!" Lia said triumphantly.

"Isn't that Qui-gon standing behind him though? How do we know that _he_ didn't do it instead of Alex?" Sarah looked questioningly at Adam, as he was the only one to actually witness the death.  But he said nothing.

Instead, he was looking down the road at Alex. The young man seemed as confused as ever, staring blankly at what he had done.

Qui-gon gazed down at his apprentice. The flow of the Force was with Obi-wan once more, and yet…There was still something missing. Pain and fear rolled off of the young man. Fear of what he had been able to do. Fear of who he was and had forgotten.  Pain for memories lost. Pain for what had once been and would never be again.

The Jedi master had to set aside his disappointment; it was clear that the man before him was different from the Padawan he knew. Perhaps now at least the young man would listen.

"Obi-wan…" he began, hope etching his voice.

"Shut up! My name is Alex, not Obi-Wan," he said as he turned. His face was nearly unrecognizable, transformed by the anger that welled up inside of him. "I don't know who you are, and I don't ever want to know. Leave. Me. Alone."

A/N: One more chapter to go…:)


End file.
